decide tomorrow
by Majinie
Summary: Bruce Banner is a lot of things. An amazing actor, that's one of them. Scared, yes. Constantly scared of what might happen if he gets scared. He's many things, and angry is not one of them. [Science Bros.]


One of the first things that Tony learned about Bruce was that he is an amazing actor. The whole _I'm always angry_ -thing is hidden behind quiet, timid little Bruce with his hunched shoulders and wiry glasses, just waiting to snap at the slightest slip of control.

Another thing is that Bruce is an amazing actor. Yes, right, we've been there. But Bruce isn't angry. He never really is. He manages to convince people of it, simply because it's what they want to see, but his whole behaviour, the way he flinches from casual touches, pulls his hand back from formal handshakes as soon as possible without being rude, avoids huge amounts of people, keeps doing anything humanly possible to calm himself... Bruce isn't angry, he's _scared._ He's in a constant state of near-panic, and on top of that, afraid of being scared, which isn't exactly calming.

Now, Tony is no therapist, but even he gets that that can't be healthy, especially not in the long run. The thing is, he can't tell Bruce to relax when he's constantly on edge himself. He's only tried to sleep twice since the New York Incident, as he's come to call it in his mind, which was seven days ago, and both times, he has failed miserably, waking up after only a few hours of sleep filled with dreams of something pulling, pulling him back towards all-compassing blackness with stars blinking tiredly in the vastness of the _nothing_ surrounding him.

Bruce knows. Tony knows that Bruce knows. After all, they have spent most of their time together in the R&D when Tony isn't remodelling the Tower and Bruce isn't being not-afraid when or where he thinks the engineer won't notice.

Since the penthouse has been well and truly smashed (ha) during the attack, they have both taken residence on the floor that was originally reserved for guests. There's quite a lot of new stuff planned, Tony is designing a floor for each Avenger – even Rogers – that fits their needs for when the real rebuild starts. Right now, though, he sleeps (or rather, doesn't sleep) in a room right next to Bruce's.

Tonight, he has actually tried. He has been laying on his bed for hours, at first still reading and correcting schematics on a Stark Pad, but later on closing his eyes and drawing the blankets up over himself. However, sleep won't come to him; each time he drifts off slightly, he jerks back awake with wide eyes, terrified of what is expecting him past the border of dreamland.

His pounding heart and the spike of adrenaline in his blood makes him hyper-aware of his surroundings and he hears the quiet padding of Bruce's footsteps out on the hallway. At least, he's pretty sure that it's Bruce because no-one else lives on this floor.

Glancing over at the digital clock on his night stand, _1:42 am_ , he frowns and runs a hand through his hair, making it stand up even more than the constant tossing and turning already caused. _Maybe Bruce is just grabbing a late-night-snack_ , he reasons with himself. No need to worry. Right?

When the footsteps don't return even five minutes later, Tony decides that this is just the excuse he needed to get up anyway and pulls the covers back, stretching with a yawn before he swings his feet off of the bed. He's only in a tee and boxers, but if nothing else, at least the heating in the Tower is still intact so he's barely chilled by leaving the warmth of his bed.

Quietly, he opens his door and slips outside, making an effort to close it soundlessly behind him before he walks down the corridor. He doesn't know what he expected to find when he walked towards the small kitchen, but it sure wasn't this.

Bruce is sitting at the table, his glasses neatly folded in front of him. His shoulders are drawn up and shaking, his body not quite facing the door, but enough to let Tony see about half of his face. The physicist has the back of one hand pressed against his lips, the other clenching around a bundle of fabric on the table in front of him that's probably a jacket; his eyes are squeezed shut, which doesn't really do anything to stop the constant flow of silent tears that run down his cheeks.

For a moment, Tony is frozen in horrified surprise; a little part of him wonders just where and why Bruce learned to cry so utterly soundlessly. From what he's read in his file about Brian Banner, he has a sickeningly precise idea.

He tears himself away from his spot in the doorway and makes sure that his steps are audible on the tiles under his bare feet so he doesn't startle Bruce too badly. Still, the smaller man jumps at the sound, his head whipping around and his eyes suddenly wide open as he stares at Tony in horror. For a second, they just stare at each other silently before the physicist hastily scrubs a hand over his face, muttering an almost inaudible curse under his breath.

"Sorry," he forces out, his voice thick and choked up, "I'm sorry, I was just– I didn't mean to wake you, I'll..."

"You didn't wake me," Tony interrupts, finally finding his voice again. Approaching the table, he continues: "I couldn't sleep anyway, it's fine. I mean, _I'm_ fine, you look a little..." He makes a vague gesture with his hand. "You know."

Bruce attempts a smile that comes out as a pained grimace. "Yeah. I know." _Tactful as usual, Tony._ "Sorry. I'll just..." He trails off, his shoes squeaking on the floor as he gets up.

Shoes?

Suddenly, something goes _click_ in Tony's head and he reaches out to grab the smaller man's arm. He flinches, but the inventor doesn't let go. Bruce is fully dressed in jeans and a tee. The glasses on the table. The jacket. _Shoes_. Bruce must have seen in his eyes that he realised something because he makes another feeble attempt at getting out of Tony's grip, but the engineer stubbornly holds on.

Softer than he actually has intended to, he asks: "Is there something you wanna tell me, buddy?"

Bruce opens his mouth to say something, closes it again and takes a deep breath. Tony _really_ feels like pressing, but he bites his tongue before his sleep-deprived brain makes him blabber something that he'll regret later. Right now, Bruce is probably more fragile than Tony has ever seen him.

After a few failed attempts, the physicist blurts out: "I can't stay here. I can't do that. I'm putting you in danger, I'm putting everybody in danger, this was such a stupid idea, I _have_ to leave, this –"

"Stop, stop, stop," Tony interrupts, holding his free hand up to stop the sudden flow of words. "No, Bruce, _stop_. Where the hell is this coming from all of sudden? Nothing happened, it's fine, right?"

"It's _not_!" Bruce snaps vehemently and rips his arm free from Tony's grasp. "Nothing happened, nothing happened _yet_ , but it's going to happen, I'm going to..."

"No, stop, slow down there, buddy," the engineer cuts him off almost harshly. "Seriously. Bruce. You're the expert at this, breathe for a second, calm down."

For a moment, Bruce looks like he wants to object, but then he swallows his protests down in favour of taking some deep, calming breaths. His quiet voice sounds considerably calmer as he eventually speaks up: "I'm having nightmares." He pauses, staring at the jacket that he's twisting between his fingers, and Tony wonders how aware Bruce is of the inventor's own insomnia. "And that– that would be okay, anywhere else, with anybody else, but it's really not good for my blood pressure and here I'm going to– I'm going to _hurt_ someone, Tony, and I don't want that, I can't do that –"

Tony sees the other tearing up again and quickly interjects: "So, the nightmares. You're telling me they started today?" Bruce looks up from the jacket, blinking rapidly and then shaking his head. "That means you had them the rest of the week now, too."

The physicist still looks uncomfortable, but nods. "Yeah. I mean, longer than that. But they got more frequent and, uh, more intense after..." He trails off, aware that the other man knows exactly what he means.

"That's why you want to leave," Tony clarifies with a look to the other's shoes and jacket. "In the middle of the night. _Without telling me._ " Bruce flinches at his tone and the inventor realises that he sounded more hurt than he intended to show. Well, sue him, he likes Bruce, okay? And they have built up some sort of fragile trust so Tony assumed that – not that Bruce would stay forever, not necessarily, but that Tony would at least be told when he decided to leave. It's surprisingly painful that Bruce wanted to slink away into the dark of the night without a word. "Now here's my point, Brucie. These nightmares aren't anything new, are they? You've been dealing with them for over a year before we met without an incident, and you've been here for a week and, correct me if I'm wrong, I really don't remember being smashed yet."

Bruce huffs a laugh, although it sounds more desperate than amused. " _Yet_. But it can happen, and I don't want to risk – I don't want to –" His voice breaks and a sob tears itself from his throat. After Tony has seen how quiet Bruce usually cries, the sound is even more startling than it would usually be.

Without thinking about it, he closes the distance between them and wraps his arms around Bruce tightly. The smaller man tenses up like a bowstring and Tony is already scolding himself, _yeah, you idiot, surprise-hug the guy who has touch issues and gets murderous when you scare him_ , but then, after a few seconds, Bruce goes limp in his grasp like someone has turned a switch. Their position is a bit awkward, with the physicists hands trapped between them and still clutching the jacket to his chest, but he still leans forward to hide his face in the crook of Tony's neck as he takes slow, shaky breaths to prevent any new tears from falling. After a minute, he drops the jacket and tentatively raises his arms to loop them around Tony's waist.

"I'm _sorry_ ," he chokes out, his voice slightly muffled. "I didn't – I don't mean – I don't want to –"

"Shht," Tony hushes him. "You don't need to explain or justify anything. Or apologize. It's fine. Just..." He tightens his hold on Bruce, surprised by how thin the other man is; but it sort of figures by the way he's been living before. Still, Tony makes a mental note to feed him better. "Can you promise me one thing?" The physicist tenses up again and Tony gives him a, hopefully reassuring, squeeze. "Nothing dramatic. I don't want to trap you here or anything. If you want to leave, then that's up to you, but I want you to know that there's no need to. You're handling yourself incredibly well and I'd be bored in the lab without you, I already know that. The only thing I want is that _if_ I really can't convince you to stay, then please tell me? Just... give me a heads-up, I don't know. Oh, and don't make decisions like that after a nightmare. I've tried that after Afghanistan and lemme tell you, you'll regret it."

There's a silence that stretches almost too long before Bruce nods slowly and whispers: "Promise." 

"Good." Tony feels himself smile in relief. They stay the way they are until the doctor stops shivering and then a bit longer. When his legs start to hurt from standing too long in one position, though, Tony proposes: "Now, how about we get you back to bed?" Bruce immediately tenses and the inventor adds: "I can stay if you want. I can't sleep anyway, so I'll just... keep an eye and ear out in case you dream again."

There's another long pause before he hears Bruce murmuring a quiet "okay".

They part hesitantly and Tony finds himself keeping a hand on the small of Bruce's back as he leads them back towards his room, leaving the glasses on the table and the jacket forgotten on the floor. Bruce collapses onto the mattress almost instantly and the inventor comments with a fond little chuckle: "You'll have to get rid of the shoes, though."

"Oh," Bruce makes quietly. "Right." It makes Tony wonder for how long he had been sleeping with his shoes on, ready to jump up and flee at the slightest notion that something was wrong.

Shaking his heads to dismiss those thoughts, he says: "I'm just gonna fetch my tablet from my room, I'll be right back, okay?" Bruce nods while crawling under the blankets and when Tony returns a minute later, he is laying on his side, facing the door to watch out for Tony's return. "There we go," the inventor greets, closes the door behind him and flops down onto the mattress next to his friend. After a moment of thought, he sits up against the headboard and loads some project files for the Tower's rebuild and the next armour as he says: "I'll be right here for the rest of the night. Catch a bit of sleep, will ya?"

"Yeah," Bruce whispers and curls up, shifting for some more minutes before he finds a comfortable position. Then, he adds an almost inaudible "thank you".

"Anytime," Tony replies equally as quiet, not really paying any attention to the schematics on his tablet while he listens to the smaller man's breathing evening out.

He holds up another hour before his back is sore. Only for that reason does he quietly slip under the covers and lays down next to Bruce, facing the scientist. He looks so much more peaceful in his sleep, no worried lines on his face, his curls falling over his forehead and his lips slightly parted and absolutely kissable –

– _and whoa, Tony, we're not going there,_ _get a grip. He's sleeping. Leave it._

Which is why Tony closes his eyes, simply so he won't do anything stupid, and listens to Bruce's gentle, even breathing.

They say people are more honest when they're sleeping. When Tony wakes up the next morning, he supposes that's true because there's a warm body pressed up against his side and a pair of arms firmly around him. He's only startled for a second before he shrugs lightly and closes his eyes again. Bruce might never do this while he is awake, but right now, he's able to take the comfort that he needs without being ashamed for it. Tony is more than willing to provide.


End file.
